


Candle on the Cake

by Skullszeyes



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, Clancy isn't playing the game right, Dubious Consent, Lucas tries to force him, M/M, Mild Language, One-Sided Attraction, Resident Evil 7, basically sexual assault, mention of Andre and Pete, re7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 00:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10204853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullszeyes/pseuds/Skullszeyes
Summary: Clancy is popping balloons and this pisses off Lucas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My depression seeped into this story. :/ It was meant to be different, but writing this and thinking about how the characters are is quite dubious and possibly always will be. I don't imagine Clancy as an old man that he's apparently is. He sounds like he's in his early to mid twenties and I'll always see him as so. (Via face model. I like him better than old Clancy.)  
> I'm not great with romance, even if its Fanfiction. Sorry if I'm bad at it. :/
> 
> (Skillet - Comatose.) - Song I listened too while writing this story.

Clancy sat on the white painted floor inside the _Happy Birthday_ room. He had the blue quill pen in his hand and was currently popping the grey balloons that were in the other room where the password combination is. He left the door open and took out the valve handle, leaving it on the floor beside him and the popped balloons he discarded. The _loser_ password was etched into his arm, the blood crusted and stung, but he ignored it as best he could.

There was also something else he was ignoring.

“Clancy! Hey, get up and finish the fucking game!” Lucas called from the loudspeakers.

Clancy popped a balloon which earned him an aggravated growl from Lucas through the speakers. He couldn’t help but smile as he dropped the inflated balloon and picked up another. He scattered most throughout the room he was currently in. If he was going to die, he’d like it to wait and enjoy himself in his final moments. From the last game they played together Lucas didn’t like to lose.

Clancy wrinkled his nose, popping the balloon and with a shaky inhale. He recalled the screaming, the machines, the laughter of his host and the death of his opponent. He dropped the quill he held and his hand that was strapped to the device shook. He pressed it to his chest and closed his eyes, he was so close at losing his fingers. So close that when the other lost his own, there was only a selfishly driven relief that it was not him.

He survived, but he would not survive this. So he ignored the birthday cake, and Lucas Baker, he wanted to enjoy his last moments popping all of Lucas’s balloons. Maybe he could find some type of closure with the silence and the loud echo, or maybe he won’t and eventually when the balloons are all gone, he’ll have to get up and walk the candle to the cake.

He reached for another, his shaky hand grasped the quill he dropped. He heard the door beginning to rattle and Lucas’s muttered voice. He popped the balloon, and with its expectant echo, he scrambled to his feet, startled and alert of what was about to happen.

 _Is he going to force me to put the candle on the cake?_ That would be ridiculous. He gripped the pen and pressed his back against the wall, his heart jolted in his chest. There was no where to go, nowhere to run. This was it.

The door opened and he heard it slam shut, then Lucas walked into his line of sight and he doesn’t look happy. His sickly pale face is twisted with utter disgust and annoyance. Clancy knew he was a sore loser, it was in the way he pouted when he won at 21. The grin afterward when he knew Clancy wasn’t going to survive a game he personally rigged. A game that Clancy wouldn’t be able to escape without some kind of undeniable help which in this case, he wasn’t about to get.

His odds at this point is severely low, the knife in Lucas’s hand, the one that’s being tightened with uncontrollable rage, it only makes his situation a lot worse than it was five minutes ago when Lucas was trying to bait him into the room. Freedom, what a pointless thing in the words of a monster.

“You’re supposed to play the game,” Lucas said, walking toward him.

“Is that why you’re in here, to tell me to play your fucking game?” Clancy asked, hoping Lucas didn’t just hear the fear in his voice, he tried to stay calm, to keep it away, but he was scared of what Lucas could do.

Lucas raised the knife and Clancy tensed at the sight, wincing as the knife cut into the wall beside his head. Lucas slammed his hand on Clancy’s other side, caging him against the wall.

“You were meant to die, goddamit. Not pop the fucking balloons.” He scowled when he looked down at the pile of deflated balloons sitting beside the valve handle.

Clancy shoved Lucas back, his hand slipping from the handle of the knife. Growling low as Clancy bolted for the door, except to his horror, it was locked when he tried pulling on the knob.

“Fuck,” Clancy breathed, panic settling in.

“You thought I would leave the door open for you?,” Lucas asked, chuckling. “So you could run through the house again.”

Clancy turned and Lucas stood against the table, brow arched and grinning. What evened the odds was the lack of knife. It was probably still stuck in the wall, or possibly hidden inside his sweater, for now, Clancy couldn’t see it and he had hope he wouldn’t in the next few minutes.

“What are you doing in here?” Clancy asked, curling his fingers into fists at his sides, to stop his shaking, so in some way he could have some kind of control over himself than the fear running through his body.

“You can’t get out, Clancy. I’m not going to let you,” Lucas said, his lips curved into a smile.

Everything feels he knows feels far away, endless and sickening. It leaves an emptiness inside him and he can’t seem to shake it besides to grit his teeth. His anger is still there, flickering in the recesses of his mind. Losing Andre and Pete, finding himself lost in a labyrinth of madness. What was there left for him but a freedom that’s out of his grasp and a candle he still had on him.

_One last game._

“Is that defeat I see?” Lucas asked, his eyes taking on a devious glint, he lifts his chin just slightly, tilting his head to the side, brow arched. “Come on, Clancy. I thought you had more fight in you.”

He had, constantly when the odds were stacked on him and he was still able to overcome it. When his killer took pleasure in seeing him in pain. Clancy swallowed his nerves and wasn’t sure if he was able to do it again.

He stepped closer and frowned at Lucas’s expression that faltered. The smile gone, he turned his head again to the other side, brows knitted together in confusion. His hands tighten on the edge of the table he’s leaned against, his body tensing and for a moment, Clancy realizes something about Lucas himself.

A weakness. He was afraid of him.

He pressed his tongue against his teeth and when he took a step closer. His hands slacken at his sides, mind going empty and before he could really disregard the plan he didn’t think through. He lunged for Lucas, fingers digging into his arms and for a moment by the frustrated grunt coming from Lucas, he thinks maybe just maybe he could win.

Except he’s spun around and slammed against the table, Lucas crawling on top of him. Piece of shit is grinning, whatever confusion he had on him is gone in a blink and now there’s something else on him. A craving, desire, digging its claws inside his eyes and when Clancy squirms, trying to break free.

Lucas pins his arms, legs pushing his own legs down leans his spindly body on Clancy’s. He can feel every little bony curve and it hurts. His breath is hot and smells like something died in his mouth, it’s not a great thought when Lucas kisses him square on the mouth.

Clancy’s eyes are wide open and he pushes his body up, except it's more of a grind and it sends a groan through Lucas. He pushes through his mouth with his tongue, teeth jutting against his own. His tongue is warm and Clancy’s in need of breath, but Lucas doesn’t let up. Clancy is forced to squeeze his eyes closed, gasping in Lucas’s mouth, trying his best to pretend he’s not being forced to kiss Lucas Baker of all people.

When Lucas does move up, laughing hard, it rumbles through his chest. Clancy breathes hard, gulping down air as he turns his head to the side. He tries wrenching his hands from Lucas’s grasp, except Lucas’s fingers push hard into Clancy’s wrist. Pain flashes through him, followed by blind rage, whatever sorrow exhausted him earlier, that pulled courage out of nowhere was gone, dissipated with the kiss.

“Get off of me you fucking bastard,” Clancy yelled, struggling.

Lucas grins down at him. “There’s that fire, thought it was gone.” He chuckles, leaning up, knee pushing down on Clancy’s.

The sharp pain sent another jolt through him. For a scrawny bastard, he’s stronger than he looks. “F-Fuck.”

Lucas examined the crusted wound on his wrist that the mechanical clown puppet carved into him. To his disgust, Lucas stuck his tongue out, and licked it, lathering the wound in his saliva.

“Stop, get off of me!” Clancy yelled, trying to pull his wrist from Lucas’s hold again. The candle stick he on him slipped from his pocket, falling to the ground and somehow it brought Lucas’s attention away from his arm.

Lucas leaned forward, looking over the table. It was a good distraction for Clancy to shove him off the table. Lucas growled, grasping Clancy and dragging him off. They hit the floor, Lucas rolling over and glaring at Clancy who moved back, away from Lucas.

His expression softened when he noticed the candle lying between them. He grinned, reaching for the candle and pushing it toward Clancy who watched it roll. Lucas stood, straightening as he moved to the side, toward the door.

“Go on, finish the game. Put the candle on the cake.”

Clancy gritted his teeth, staring at the candle, that familiar pain of exhaustion and sorrow returned. Consuming him and the second Lucas left the room, a way Clancy didn’t know.

He wiped his mouth and reached for the candle.

**Author's Note:**

> It was meant to be different. Not like it matters now anyway. :/ I keep mentioning 'fire' in every fanfic I write of Clancy x Lucas. I seriously can't get over his death. Amazing character, I love Clancy. :) 
> 
> I hoped you enjoyed.


End file.
